Words of Gold
by EloquentDossier
Summary: In a world where less than 0.3% of people wake up on their eighth birthday without a tattoo on their arms signifying a phrase their soulmates speak in casual conversation, Aaron Hotchner is almost positive the words on his arm will never be uttered. / In which Hotch pines, Reid pines, and when it seems like something needs to give, it finally does. / Slash. Mostly canon-compliant.


_**Slight spoilers through season 10.**_

 _ **This is mostly angst, just a heads-up.** It ends happily, because I only do happy endings (thus far) so don't worry, it gets better._

 _Pairing is Hotch/Reid, but there are mentions of Hotch/Haley, Hotch/Beth, and Reid/Maeve because, like I said, this is mostly canon-compliant. (;_

 _Hope you guys enjoy!_

* * *

Just like everyone else, Aaron Hotchner's soulmate tattoo appeared on his arm at the age of eight. He'd woken up in the morning and seen the spindly letters, his breath catching in his throat—and then he'd furrowed his brows and frowned at the phrase staring up at him. Why would anyone ever say _that_? Flustered and confused, his excitement plummeted, and he simply went about getting ready for the day, pulling on a thin long-sleeved shirt, as was the custom. The tattoos were private, the phrases something meant to be said during casual conversation and without planning or prompting, which was almost impossible if someone _knew_ what your tattoo said.

And honestly, nowadays? Finding your soulmate was nearly impossible; adding in that issue would only make it worse.

So on the day that really should have been one of the best of his life, Aaron Hotchner resigned himself to the harsh reality that he would likely never find his soulmate.

* * *

Spencer Reid's tattoo came late, which wasn't a huge surprise.

It was, of course, something that others simply mocked him for even more, adding "bare-skinned" and "soulmate-less" to their list of insults. And the words had served their purpose; he'd been unable to stop the flinches because it _was_ entirely possible he didn't have a soulmate. It was extremely rare, something like 0.3%, but with his luck? He wasn't quite going to get his hopes up.

So when he woke up for class one day on his thirteenth birthday, he was absolutely _shocked_ by the site of cursive letters on his arm as he reached out to turn on the shower. He opened and closed his mouth several times before quickly undressing and stepping underneath the spray. He couldn't quite believe what he was seeing, and it was only after he'd scrubbed at the words and they weren't fading that he finally allowed himself to come to the realization that they were actually his soulmate tattoo—not some sort of prank done by a group of college kids.

And so Spencer Reid cried because he _wasn't_ that rapidly dwindling 0.3%, and that was the only day he ever missed a class.

* * *

Though Hotch had never found his "soulmate," he had definitely found something close enough in the form of Haley Brooks. And truly, with how much he loved her, he wasn't entirely sure that she _wouldn't_ say the words on his arm someday. But until then, they had both taken to keeping a bandage over their tattoos, willing to enjoy each other's company for as long as it lasted. And if they ever happened across their soulmates, well—that was a bridge they would cross when they got to it.

The one thing Hotch had _never_ expected, though, was for him to actually find his soulmate, just before Haley gave birth to their son.

x

The case had been rough. LDSK's were always tricky, and they were honestly lucky they'd managed to catch Phillip Dowd at all. Hotch had balked at the thought of how they'd get out of there alive, but he had known there was only one way, and he could only hope that Reid understood what was going on as he verbally attacked the younger male before _physically_ attacking him.

Each kick had been accompanied by a noise of pain, and Hotch had hated himself for what he was doing, even though he _knew_ he had to. The relief he'd felt when Reid's fingers clutched at his leg (efficiently removing the second sidearm Hotch carried in an ankle holster) had been instantaneous, before being smothered by slight anxiety when Dowd somehow noticed.

But then Reid had suddenly turned and shot, making Hotch jump slightly at the deadly accuracy as the bullet struck directly between Dowd's eyes. Hotch had barely managed to remember to yell, "Federal Agent!" as he made his way to the door where a team was ready to bust in.

Things were a little hectic after that, and Hotch lost sight of Reid at one point. He found the genius rather easily when weaving his way around people and towards the rows of ambulances. Reid was leaning against one of them with his arms crossed almost protectively around him, and his gaze followed Hotch as the older man walked up to him.

Hotch was silent for a moment as he turned around and angled himself towards Reid, crossing his own arms as he quietly asked, "You all right?"

Reid nodded, more-so mouthing the word, "Yeah," than actually saying it, and Hotch felt a twinge of guilt as Reid looked away from him.

"Nice shot," he complimented without thinking, mentally kicking himself when he realized just what he'd said because that _hadn't_ been the way he wanted to start the conversation.

Reid's expression turned almost confused for a moment, and Hotch could tell the younger man was looking for the words he wanted to say. It took him a short moment, his gaze darting up at Hotch before quickly moving away as he replied, "I was aiming for his leg." He then looked back at Hotch almost shyly as a smile curved his lips.

Hotch bit the inside of his cheek against the urge to laugh, and instead only offered a slight smile in return before explaining, "I wouldn't have kept kicking, but I was afraid you didn't get my plans." He briefly looked down at the ground, shuffling his feet for a moment before shifting his gaze back to Reid.

"I got your plan the minute you moved the hostages out of my line of fire," Reid retorted with a slight nod of his head to emphasize his statement. His lips were still quirked in a wry smile, however, and Hotch briefly noticed the warmth in Reid's hazel eyes.

Hotch couldn't quite hold Reid's gaze and instead looked down at the ground once more as he murmured, "Well, I hope I didn't hurt you too badly."

Reid's shoulders moved in what seemed to be an aborted laugh as Reid ducked his head. "Hotch, I was a twelve-year-old child prodigy in a Las Vegas public high school," the younger profiler rejoined, looking back up at him only briefly before looking away in what Hotch knew was a quick debate over whether to say what he was thinking. Reid continued, grinning as his head swiveled back to face Hotch. "You kick like a nine-year-old girl."

Hotch found himself smiling easily in return just before he felt the burn up his arm. It took his breath away, and for a moment he didn't realize Reid had held his gun out to him. Forcing himself out of his shock, he shook his head. "No. Keep it," he managed to say without his voice breaking. His hand was moving without his permission, and he quickly dropped it on Reid's shoulder, gently clapping it a few times as he added, "As far as I'm concerned, you've passed your qualification."

He made himself walk away and towards one of their SUV's, offering a quick explanation to Gideon that he needed just a few minutes alone. The older man had nodded before turning and heading off to speak to one of the LEO's, and Hotch pulled off his suit jacket before sliding into the driver's seat. Holding his breath, he unbuttoned the cuff of his shirt before rolling up the sleeve of his right arm. There, in now black-turned-gold ink, were the words he'd truly never thought he'd hear his soulmate speak: "You kick like a nine-year-old girl."

He then proceeded to quietly freak the fuck out.

* * *

Hotch kept his mouth shut. He had Haley and his son to worry about; there was no reason to even consider bothering Reid with his tattoo. Besides, the younger man didn't act any differently, and Hotch didn't want to take the chance that Reid might be _his_ soulmate, but he wasn't _Reid's_. Even the thought hurt, so he couldn't imagine facing the actual rejection from his soulmate.

But none of that meant Hotch was able to shut off everything that came with the soulmate tattoo. There was an almost incessant need to ensure Reid was safe every few minutes, and the bond was pulling so strongly that Hotch was barely able to catch himself before he did something inappropriate to his subordinate. It made his life a living hell at the same time that it made his world brighter. He hated it, and he loved it, and it went on.

x

Haley found out after the Tobias Hankel case. The entire thing had nearly wrecked Hotch, and Reid's soft, "I knew you'd understand," as he'd thrown himself into Hotch's arms had been his breaking point. He had gone home to her and confessed, and Haley had held him as his sobs trembled through him.

x

They'd tried to make it work, but Haley eventually couldn't stand it anymore and gave him a choice: leave the BAU (and ultimately Reid) or _she_ would leave him. Strauss's suspension was, to Haley, a blessing in disguise, and Hotch swallowed back his denial and ended up requesting a transfer. Haley was pleased, and Jack was happy his father was around. Hotch felt like someone had cut out the very core of his being.

It hadn't taken long for him to give into the strength of his bond, and while Haley tactfully kept from mentioning Reid, Hotch knew she wanted to. He also knew that the likelihood of her still being home when he returned was practically nonexistent—and he'd been right; she had taken Jack and left. But _damn_ if it hadn't felt worth it to see Reid after weeks of being away from him.

x

Unfortunately, that wasn't enough. Hotch found himself irritable more often than not, and he couldn't control his moods as well as he used to. Haley badgering him about a divorce, and Reid trying to be considerate about it all only made Hotch's hurt and anger simmer beneath the surface, and it came to a head when they were interviewing Chester Hardwick. Hotch had finally let his anger get the best of him, and Reid had stepped in to keep things from getting too bad. Feeling awful about it, Hotch had apologized to Reid for handling the situation badly before explaining (halfway) what was wrong. And when Reid had asked if he didn't want to sign the divorce papers Haley had delivered, Hotch had been able to truthfully reply, "What I want, I'm not gonna get."

x

The case involving Owen Savage had Hotch's heart in his throat nearly the entire time. He knew he was letting Reid off easy, but the genius had looked so _hopeful_ about it, and Hotch hadn't been able to be as strict as he wanted. But Reid was remotely apologetic, and Hotch didn't want to ruin Reid's euphoria at saving the teenage boy.

Things altered a little after that, and while it was difficult to be around Reid, the younger man's presence was _soothing_ and kept him in check. If anyone noticed, they didn't say anything, and Hotch was thankful for that.

x

Then Foyet came along, and Hotch was a train wreck waiting to happen. Most of that time was a blur, honestly—filled with anger and determination and pain and worry and guilt. Lots of guilt, for nearly everything, but particularly at the end when he couldn't save Haley and was lucky to have his son still alive. He'd never appreciated his team more than he had after that, and he was entirely thankful about the leave he was given to heal and spend time with Jack.

But he was even more thankful for it when he went back to work with his team, all of them warm and friendly and full of excitement upon his return. He basked in the fact that Reid's warm smile managed to make his heart flutter once more, a feeling he hadn't been able to relish for quite some time.

And he even embraced the swell of hurt that followed.

* * *

In all of Reid's life, nothing had ever gone the way it was supposed to, so when he realized he was harboring feelings for his boss—well, he accepted it and then shoved them to the back of his mind to deal with at a later date. His way of dealing, however, was to pretend they didn't exist because it didn't matter. Nothing would ever come of it.

So _of course_ after finally maneuvering around them, they would have to flare up in the worst way possible.

x

"Well, hello," JJ greeted as Reid came strolling in late one morning, quickly slipping into the open seat at the round table. He could feel everyone's eyes on him and knew they were staring because of his hair, but he didn't say anything and simply glanced up expectantly. His gaze (as always) shifted to Hotch, who was looking at him quizzically.

"What, did you join a boy band?" the older man teased, and while everyone tried to choke back their laughter, Reid furrowed his brows in confusion, partially from the question and partially from the way his arm tingled for a few seconds.

"No?" he replied questioningly, and then everyone _did_ laugh, and focus returned to the case briefing.

It wasn't until later that evening when he'd taken the bandage off his arm so he could shower that he realized what the tingling sensation had been. And as his eyes stared down at now-gold ink on his arm, he cursed his awful luck.

x

Beth Clemmons. The name made Reid's skin itch and his heart hurt. He was sick for _weeks_ at the thought of Hotch with her, and it was only his weekly discussions with Maeve that made things better.

Reid wasn't sure when his feelings for Maeve altered into something deeper than friendship. She knew about his situation, and she was kind and accepting of it. When she quickly said, "Love you," at the end of a phone call one day, he had been stunned, partially at the words and partially because of the pure _warmth_ that blossomed through his chest.

However, it was never meant to be. Maeve was quickly taken from him after that, and the combination of her death and his soulmate's interest located elsewhere was almost too much for him to handle. Yet handle it he did.

And when Hotch offered comforting words, the pure irony at how much pain those words actually brought him was not lost on Reid.

x

Near-death experiences were Reid's least favorite. But those experiences _coupled_ with the fact that his soulmate almost died as well? It was a wonder he could even function properly afterwards. Then, of course, to top it off, the woman who had basically become a second mother to him resigned from the BAU, leaving her badge with him.

He cried harder that night—from both pain and relief—than he had in a very long time.

* * *

A fist bump.

An honest-to-fucking-goodness _fist bump._

It shouldn't have been intimate. It shouldn't have sent pure warmth tingling through them from their heads to their toes. It shouldn't have been so _satisfying_.

But it was.

Until the hurt crashed around them again.

x

When Hotch and Beth broke up, Hotch felt guilty for feeling relieved. It had almost felt like he was cheating on Reid, even though he and his soulmate weren't even together. Of course, Rossi's response was to try and set him up with someone new. He didn't have the heart to tell his best friend that it didn't matter, and so he went. While he was polite and flirty on the outside, he couldn't stop himself from analyzing every single difference between the woman next to him and his soulmate.

And when _Reid_ found out Beth was gone? Even though there was still a lance of pain from an incomplete bond, he felt lighter than he had in years.

x

Mr. Scratch haunted them both, for very different reasons.

Hotch couldn't quite keep from envisioning Reid's death and how _real_ it had felt—the pain of his bond being severed, and the scramble to jerk up his sleeve and tear off the bandage just to see the words on his arm disappear with a slow burn that made his blood run cold.

Reid couldn't stand the way it had bothered Hotch so badly. The sight of his boss's eyes filled with tears and fear made him want to wrap his arms around the older man. He wanted to make it _better_. But all he could do was watch from afar as Hotch's stoic mask slipped on, hiding the after-effects.

* * *

When it happened, it was an accident.

Usually, they were all careful about ensuring that the other person was decent (and by that they meant their arms were covered) before walking into the hotel room—either from the hallway or from the bathroom.

It had been a long case, however, and Reid was exhausted. He'd changed at a quicker speed than normal, longing for the warmth of a bed, and when he opened the door of the bathroom to walk out into the room, he stopped short at the sight of Hotch shirtless in front of him. His eyes widened, and a flush crept up his neck as the ever-present yearning made itself loud and clear.

That passed however, when his eyes caught on the bleeding gash on Hotch's arm. "Hotch, you're hurt?" he blurted, taking a few steps forward.

The older man grunted and took a few steps back, holding up a hand. "I'm fine, Reid. It's just a scratch."

"But you're _bleeding_!" Reid exclaimed, darting forward and grabbing Hotch's right arm, frowning at the long wound. It was mostly superficial, but it was half the length of his upper arm. "What did you even do?" Reid murmured, his lips twisting wryly.

Hotch's swallow was audible, and his arm jerked slightly in Reid's grip, a silent plea for Reid to release him. It only caused the younger man's gaze to be drawn to the gold words, and both his grip and mouth went lax as his eyes darted up to Hotch's face. The older man promptly pulled away from him, laughing bitterly.

Reid inhaled sharply. "Hotch, is that—"

"Yes," Hotch cut him off, moving around him to the bag and pulling out several bandages. "If you'll let me re-wrap it, I'll switch with Morgan so we don't—"

"No."

Hotch was startled by the firm response, and he turned to look at a rather livid Reid. "Excuse me?"

Reid shoved the arm of his pajamas up, exposing his own tattooed words as he bit out, "Why didn't you _say anything_ , Hotch?"

Hotch's breath caught in his throat, and he took a few halting steps forward, his hand reaching out to gently brush his fingers over the elegant script. Reid made a broken noise in his throat at the touch, and Hotch's gaze flicked up to his. "The same reason you didn't," Hotch answered softly.

Reid's expression softened, and then the younger man was pressed against him, slender arms wrapped around his waist, and Hotch circled his arms around Reid as well, pulling him impossibly close and hooking his chin over Reid's shoulder. The bond practically sang from years of denial, and then Reid was trailing kisses up his neck and along his jaw before Hotch turned his head to press their lips together, and it was almost like an explosion of heat and desire.

The kiss turned hot and needy, Hotch's lips and tongue coaxing Reid's lips apart so that Hotch could lick and stroke and _taste_ , and Reid's hands clutched desperately at bare skin as he trembled and whimpered and _felt_. No one ever talked about this part; the all-consuming need that made soulmates dizzy with want when they finally found each other—or in their case, finally _acknowledged_ each other.

Reid wasn't certain he would ever get enough as he rocked their hips together, making Hotch pull away with a soft hiss. Reid tilted his head just enough to flick his tongue against the shell of Hotch's ear with a rasped, "I need you," as he gently squeezed Hotch's shoulders.

Hotch's groan was a mix of pain and pleasure as he jerked back, leaving Reid confused and slightly hurt until he noticed Hotch was examining his wound. Reid winced as Hotch glanced at him, and the older man chuckled before closing the slight distance between them again, cupping Reid's face in his hands and feathering a gentle kiss over his lips that caused Reid's pulse to stutter.

"We should probably bandage my arm and get some sleep," Hotch suggested, smiling at the petulant whine Reid made. "None of that, now. It won't hurt to wait a little longer, and I really don't want the first time we make love to be in a hotel room." The deep blush that colored Reid's face caused a burst of warmth in Hotch's chest.

"You're right," Reid agreed, though he frowned. "It's just... I've been wanting this for so long, even before you said the words on my arm."

Hotch hummed softly, brushing a thumb over Reid's cheekbone. "And I've been waiting nearly ten years _with_ my half of the bond," he replied.

Reid's face twisted in anguish. "I still can't believe you didn't say anything. I would have been willing after you and Haley separated."

Hotch smiled sadly and pressed their foreheads together. "I wouldn't have been able to give you up if your words happened to be someone else's because I am quite hopelessly in love with you, Spencer Reid."

Another blush darkened the younger man's face, and he smiled shyly as he replied, "Well, Aaron Hotchner, you don't have to worry about that because _I_ am quite hopelessly in love with you, as well." Gently, he nudged the older man's nose with his and added, "Now, let's get your wound cleaned."

x

The next morning saw both men with their sleeves rolled up exposing words of gold.

* * *

 _Thanks so much for reading! Reviews are always loved! uwu_


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